Before the Dawn
by Megatron 'n' Starscream's Gal
Summary: The Autobots have won the millenia-old war, but what happens to the remaining Decepticons afterwards? Romance, OC-based.


**Disclaimer: I do not own Transformers, Lunarshadow, or Moonfire. Transformers belongs to Hasbro, Lunarshadow to JazzylovesTransformers, and Moonfire to MarySueDevourer. Their characters/OC's were used with their permission.**

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><p>The cells were cold and dark, buried far beneath the surface of Cybertron. Most occupants were either curled up in the corner or staring blankly into space, their optics dimmed to the point where hardly any light was produced by them. One of these prisoners was a femme sitting with her back propped up against the wall, legs drawn up to her chest and head resting on her knees. Her wings had sunken to a point she didn't even think possible on her back, various scuff marks marring her own proud paintjob with specks of grime and dirt decorating her body. Such were the consequences of living in the underground of Cybertron for so long. Claustrophobia, a common fear in Seekers, had caused some of the injuries; such as when she'd thrown herself at the wall numerous times in a useless attempt at escape. The others were mainly due to scuffles with the guards and generally just a lack of cleaning privileges.<p>

The miserable wailing of others could still be heard echoing down the dank walls. They weren't the screams she was hearing, though; the screaming she _could_ hear was only in her mind, the last noise she'd ever heard from Skywarp as he'd been dragged away. She buried her faceplate in her hands, not wanting to relive the memory that had occured mere moments ago. Why hadn't she been able to _protect_ him? What use was the title of a Decepticon Seeker, which heralded doom for all opposition just by the name, when she couldn't even protect a defenceless little clone? Skywarp had become her companion over the long, long days she'd spent in this place. By comforting him and making him feel safe, she'd managed to keep herself sane, as it was a good distraction from the events folding out around her.

But he was gone now. Dragged away by those low-life guards to be sold to some cruel owner who would probably scare him into offlining. The poor guy. She wished she could've gone with him. She missed his excessive whimpering already, instead leaving her with the horrified and tortured cries of the other Seekers around her. And leaving her to herself, too, meaning it was surely only a matter of time before she became an instrument of her own destruction. Without Skywarp playing distraction, he had left the femme to her own devices, and she knew it wouldn't be long before she drove herself insane. Maybe she should've seen a counsellor.

That was out of the question now, though (although she doubted she would've gone regardless. She despised counsellors with a vengance). Ever since the imprisonment of Megatron and the gradual fall of the Decepticons, every thing had spiralled downward into chaos for the tyrant's remaining forces. The only other mech who could've kept the rebellion strong was Starscream, but he'd been reportedly offlined in the events of the small human city of Detroit.

Life was bad for the remaining Decepticons. They'd been tracked down and mercilessly slaughtered or imprisoned by the suddenly confident Elite Guard... or most of them, anyway. There were the normal Decepticons, and then there were the Seekers. The prized Seekers, who were now being sold to willing Autobots as slaves and/or pleasurebots from other underhanded Autobots who needed a bit of money. The Elite Guard knew it was going on, of course- there was no way someone _couldn't_ know. But they chose to turn a blind optic to the going ons, and the Seekers continued to suffer. She hated to think of what had become of their beloved Vos. Over-run by filthy little Autobot ground-pounders no doubt.

The door opened with an omnious hiss then, the femme weakly raising a hand to shield her sensitive optics from the bright light now streaming in. Two large shadows stretched over the beam of light, the two transformers stepping in, the door closing again behind them with another hiss. She could make out a large orange and black mech- one of the guards, probably- escorting a smaller more stubby mech bouncing along beside him. Another buyer. The femme Seeker barely supressed an annoyed snarl. Uptight son of a-

"'M looking for a femme. Hear they're pretty rare, though. You sure you guys have one?" the stubby mech asked, his bright blue optics glancing around the cells.

"Of course," the guard responded with a gruff grunt.

The femme sat quietly in her corner, watching them through slitted optics. _Not rare,_ she mentally corrected, _just hard to get._ They approached her cell slowly, the click-clacking of their footsteps stopping before her. A ghost of a scowl fluttered over her features, and she gave them the darkest glare she could muster in her energy-deprived state. Fragtards.

"Hmmm... aren't there any... cleaner ones?"

"All of them are in pretty much the same condition. Most are primed before the auction, however."

"Very well. And is there... ah... anyway to 'gurantee' my ownership of her?"

It took a moment for her to catch on to what he meant by 'gurantee.' She was no possession that could be "guranteed" by merely a large sum of money! Foolish, naive, stupid, stupid Autobots...!

"They're given to the highest bidder," the guard replied simply, "There are no guarantees."

Of course. They'd want to make as much money as possible, wouldn't they? She let out a contemptous snort and turned her faceplate away from them, as if she couldn't stand to gaze upong their disgusting faceplates anymore. Part of that was true. Seekers were known to be proud, defensive and, most of all, arrogant creatures. It wasn't the first- or the last- time one of her kind thought themselves above the other useless ground-pounders that dirtied Cybertron and polluted it's air. Air that belgoned to _Seekers._

"Hmm..." the potential buyer didn't seem particularly pleased by this, but didn't comment.

The femme figured he was probably afraid of being beaten to a pulp if he did.

The guard escorted him out without many more words, and she watched them disappear down the hallway, the door closing and locking behind them. She managed to keep her glare trained on them the whole way out, and it was only when she was sure they weren't coming back that she finally relaxed against the wall and dropped her gaze. She would not, under any circumstances, act like a frightened and kicked puppy arond those filthy ground-pounders, no matter what they did to her (or threatened to do, anyway)!

"You shouldn't let them get to you."

She gave a start at the raspy voice, looking up in surprise to meet the cool gaze of the mech Seeker across from her. Faintly, she could make out his elaborate black and gold paintjob, one that would make even the most humble grounders look on with envy. She could barely stop herself from leaning forward in interest, as if trying to get a better look at him. The ghost of a smirk on his faceplate, however, told her he received such attention a lot, and she quickly composed herself. There was no need for herself to become fodder to his ego, no matter how attractive he may be.

"And what gave you the idea I was letting them get to me?" she replied breezily, trying to appear a lot more unaffected than she actually felt.

He let out a soft chuckle, one that sounded considerably weak after hearing the strong and healthy voices of the Autobots.

"Let's not play this game, femme. We're all Seekers here. If anything, we should be helping each ither."

"You mean helping yourself," she retorted, sneering.

"Well," he shrugged, a coy grin on his face, "that's one way of putting it."

She glared at him, pointedly turning away. _Don't do it, Lunarshadow, _she told herself, _Don't play his game._

"Grumpy little thing, aren't you?"

_I'm not listening._

"Why anyone would want to buy you is beyond me."

_Lalalalala. Can't hear you..._

_"_Then again, I suppose it would be very... stimulating to watch you bend over whilst cleaning one's quarters..."

"It would also be very stimulating to watch your pretty little faceplate getting smashed in, flyboy," she finally snapped, giving him her filthiest look.

"Mmmm... sorry I can't help you with that one, princess. But if there's anything else..." He winked at her slyly.

She glared at him for even suggesting it, making his grin broaden drastically.

"What?" he asked, tone decepticely innocent, "What did I say?"

"You know very well what you said."

"I never specifically said anything, sweetspark."

"The point was implied."

The conversation was cut to a stop when the doors opened again, bathing the cluster of cells in blindingly bright light. As soon as it appeared, it was gone again, replaced with the dim glow of headlights that were attatched to the guard on duty and his entourage of grunts. The femme, Lunarshadow, watched them with suspicious optics, not missing the stasis cuffs being held in one of their servos. She had a temporary flashback to Skywarp being dragged out in a similar fashion, crying and screaming, and shuffled back a few metres from the edge of her cell.

It did little to stop them.


End file.
